


A Case Study in Anger

by FayeWildwood



Series: A Case Study in Emotions [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anger, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Emotions, Fist Fights, Hot Chocolate, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Barry Allen, Protective Iris West, Protective Leonard Snart, Protective Mick Rory, smut later on, tags update when I need to, temporary though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:09:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13770645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeWildwood/pseuds/FayeWildwood
Summary: A peek into the emotions of two rogues and their favorite speedster, and how they handle them.Case One: Anger.- Striking- Burning- Glacial





	1. Striking

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a new series I'm going to work on! I know, I do so many, but this one is going to be shorter and I'll update it when I feel inspired. The first three chapters are pretty much written already anyway so yay!  
> This is part one of a series in which I'll explore different emotions within our ColdFlashWave relationship. It won't really have a super set time line so you can pretty much read them all in any order right now, if that changes, I'll let you know. Also, it'll probably mention things from the show, but I'll obviously be changing some things around to benefit the story. For example, the whole Oculus thing will still happen, but I'm going to change it up a bit after that. Anyway, we'll get to that when we get to it.  
> For now, enjoy the first installment! :)

Barry Allen is often said to be a gentle soul, good hearted to the bones. He's a protector more than anything else, hence him being Central Cities biggest and most loved heroes. He'd give himself over to save his friends ten times over, even knowing what might be coming from it. In fact he _had_  done that plenty of times.

What most people didn't know, was that Barry was a storm inside when he was angry. Iris, Joe, and Oliver had seen it first hand plenty of times, but even in the few months he'd been dating Len and Mick, they hadn't seen him at his worst. He kept his anger inside for the most part, not seeing the point in letting it out. He preferred talking it out or making jokes, apologizing if needed. Striking out was never really his thing. Joe used to laugh that Barry when he was mad was like the clouds opening up for a small drizzle. He was pretty non-confrontational in the long run. But when he was _angry_ , he was _angry_. Thunder rolled and lightning stuck, leaving scorched patches in his wake.

Len and Mick were on the waverider the first time they saw it. Or rather, Len was pacing a hole in the kitchen floor while the others sat around trying to figure out what to do with Mick- or rather Kronos- who was locked in a glass cage right now. Len was furious, confused... he didn't know what to do, hadn't known what to do back then because he'd just _left_ Mick there to fend for himself and it was his fault that- it was all his fault and he didn't know what to do with the guilt building up inside him. With Mick wanting to kill him and Barry back in their home time... he had no anchor to help him control the waves of emotions in him.

He almost thought he might be hallucinating when a flicker of lightning surged through the room and there was Barry, red suit and all, with a confused and flustered Mick standing beside him.

Len didn't quite know how to react, but the others did, all shooting to their feet and crying out in surprise because the speedster had let Kronos out! He'd- but he didn't. Len knew that the moment his eyes landed on his partner. He could see it was just Mick there, no Kronos left... or there at all.

And Barry, God Barry was just standing there.

It made Len and Mick both tense because the clear, blank expression on the speedster's face was not one they'd seen before. Through the few months, almost a year now, that they'd been dating the speedster, this was never an expression that they recognized and frankly... that scared them.

"Mister Allen!" Rip cried out, all huffy and superior as usual. "What the hell is the meaning of this? He needs to remain locked up until we can- he is dangerous mister Allen! You can't just come onto my ship and let out my prisoners!"

Barry didn't respond, only crossed his arms over his chest and stared, which was eerie in and of itself because Barry was not a quiet person. He babbled and stuttered and went on and on until someone stopped him. He was not... silent. And Len found himself at a loss for what to do because he couldn't stop looking at Mick, so much younger and unbrainwashed and confused than Kronos. He wanted to shoot forward and wrap his arms around his partner, to apologize for everything, for leaving him there to die, to starve and eat rats and be tortured and- 

"Mick," he said, trying to put as much apology as he could into that single word because not matter the emotions bubbling up inside him, he couldn't show them in front of the crew. He _couldn't_...

Mick looked back at him, giving the softest of nods before saying, "boss". Because this Mick, this Mick knew why he did what he did. This Mick knew the alternative option that Len couldn't handle doing.

"Is this- is this Mr. Rory from before Kronos?" The captain sputtered, seeming to have also noticed now that Mick wasn't actually attempting to kill all of them. "Mister Allen! You of all people should know better!" Rip continued, shoulders shooting up and face contortions in an ugly anger. 

Still, Barry remained silent and it kind of reminded Len of those days in central where all the animals would seek shelter and the birds would stop singing because they knew there was a storm coming. After the entire room grew uncomfortable, feeling the tension heavy in the air like they could taste it. Only then did Barry speak, his voice gravely and cold as ice. His body seemed almost relaxed, but Len could see the tension in his muscles, see the slight vibrations of his clenched fists. He knew Mick could sense the same.

"You have no right to lecture me about time travel, _Hunter_ , no right to lecture me at all about morals. Not when you order Len to kill Mick."

Rip sputtered, eyes widening as the crew all looked at him. "I-I did no such thing! How Mr. Snart chose to take my words is not up to me! I simply voiced my concerns about him being-"

"You specifically hired the rogues for this mission because you needed people with spotty morals who wouldn't mind doing your dirty work," Barry informed him. And it was a bit nerve racking the way his expression didn't change at all. "You knew that when you told Len that Mick was too unstable, that he needed taken care of- you knew what that meant to him. You knew that the rogues take those words _one_ way. You got tired of Mick causing problems, so instead of trying to fix it logically, you decided to get rid of him. This Kronos problem, Hunter? It's yours. It's not Len's fault, it's not Mick's. It is your problem that _I_ had to fix."

"You shouldn't have-"

"Mick was never part of the original timeline anyway," Barry interrupted, voice hard and unyielding. "The only thing that will change is that I have gotten rid of one of the time master's bounty hunters. So remind me how I shouldn't mess with the time line, Hunter. Please." There was a long silence where the two men stared at each other and Len might have suffocated on the angry tension surrounding his lover. 

If he was keeping with the metaphor, this was where the thunder rolled and the lightning struck hard and sharp against the ground.

"This is _my_ team," Rip growled at the speedster. "This is _my_ ship and _my_ crew. You have no right to come here and demand-"

_Lightning._

Before the man could even blink, Barry was shooting forward, his fingers wrapping in Rip's trench coat as he shoved the captain against the wall of the ship hard enough that his skull cracked loudly against the metal.

No one tried to stop him, but Len felt himself tense at the idea of a fight, trying to gauge who would join which side. He could see Mick doing the same on the other side of the room.

Still, no one moved.

"When it is _my_ lovers you are threatening, Rip Hunter, then I have _every right._  Had I not intervened, Mick would have been tortured and broken by the time you found him next. Len would have been racked with guilt because he thinks it's his fault. But it's not their fault, it's not, because it's _yours_. Now you listen to me Rip Hunter, because you've been to the future and you know _exactly_ how dangerous I can be," the speedster growled, sending a shiver through Len's spine. His fingers clenched tighter and he pushed Rip a bit higher on the wall, mouth twisted into a gorgeous sneer. "Mick will be coming home with me to calm down for a while, cool his jets, get back in his right mind because _you_ think he's unstable. When he's ready, if he wants to, he'll return to your crew. If he ever gets uncontrollable again, you will contact me and I will come get him. But if you _ever_ , _ever_ threaten one of my partners again just because you are too _incompetent_ to handle them, then I will rip apart time and space to find you and I will shred every bit of the time stream away from you. I will throw you in a prison made to hold people like me and you will _rot_ there until I think you've learned your lesson about treating people like they are.  _fucking. expendable_. Do you understand me."

The last line was more of a demand than a question, and the way Barry was vibrating added an extra bit of danger to his voice, the words echoing down the halls of the ship.

"Mister Allen," Rip grunted, hands wrapping around Barry's wrists as he struggled to get his feet to touch the ground. "This is my ship-"

The fist connecting to Rip's jaw came fast and almost unseen, knocking the Captain to the ground in a heap of limbs. It was obvious to everyone that the speedster held back- most of them knowing just how powerful Barry was- but still, the bruise started forming immediately when Rip looked up.

"This is not a negotiation, Captain. If I find out from Gideon or any members of this crew that you are treating them like they're nothing to you, then I _will_  put a stop to this mission of yours." Barry knelt down , resting his arms on his knees as he glared at the man. "And I do mean this _entire_ team, Hunter, not just the rogues. Don't think I don't know about Sarah's little side mission during your trip to Russia. You forget that these people," he waved a hand to the others behind him though he didn't look at them. "I knew every single one of them before you were even a blip in the universe. I was loyal to _every single one_ of them before you even considered bringing them into this shitpile you call a mission. So if you think for one second that I don't care enough about them that I would do _anything_ to protect them, then you're a bigger idiot than I thought."

"Gideon wouldn't-"

Barry held up a hand, cutting off any further words that might have been said. "Gideon was created by _me_ , Captain. She is loyal to me above all else, including her precious Rip Hunter. Isn't that right, G?"

"Of course, Mr. Allen," the ship replied.

"You see? Now, I will ask you again, though it wasn't really a question the first time. Do. You. Understand?"

It was clear Rip wasn't happy about the conversation, but he at least wasn't too big of an idiot because he grit his teeth and nodded, standing slowly and a bit shakily. "Yes, Mister Allen, I understand."

"Good." The bright smile that spread across Barry's face when he turned to the rest of the team might have given Len whiplash if it wasn't the look he was so used to on the speedster's face, and he couldn't help smirking back. "Now, this whole thing should have taken long enough that you'll find Kronos is no longer in your cell and shouldn't be a problem anymore. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I've got a pyromaniac to spoil."

And he was gone, the only thing left behind being a trail of beautiful lights and the barest hint of a kiss on Len's lips, tingling and promising more in the future. 


	2. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick's anger is scorching against the skin, like a matchstick burnt too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was typed out on my phone and I went over and reread it, but if I missed stuff or autocorrect fucked up, forgive me! I'll probably redo it when I get home but I was too excited to post it! :) if you notice anything big, please let me know.

Mick's anger was like a match, quick to be lit and burning hot to the touch, and yet gone with the ghost of a breath. The smallest bit of friction could set him off- the bump of a shoulder from a stranger, the wrong word spat in his direction, a score from the opposing team- and he'd be flickering bright and burning in the darkness. He ate up the oxygen around him like it was his only source of energy, drawing it into his muscles to fuel the embers. 

But his anger wasn't so much like a single match, as it was an entire match box. He used them up like firewood, burning and burning and fading and fading like he couldn't keep it steady. Which as Len knew was completely true. Mick's emotions were a crazy roller coaster he could hardly keep up with. He knew them of course, could recognize them upon arrival, could see Mick draw a match before it even struck... but keeping up was the struggle. Mick picked fights like a child on a playground, poking and prodding at anyone until they struck back. It was his way. 

It made him great for backup on a job because Len always knew to count on Mick to get as many good hits in as possible, but it also made him unpredictable. One person could say the wrong thing and maybe Len could control his partner, maybe not, and the whole job would be a bust because Mick couldn't keep the fire in the box.

But Mick's anger, like matches, was fleeting and once it was burnt it was burnt. He didn't hold grudges, didn't find the need to. 

To Mick, once a fight was had, whatever the anger had been over didn't matter anymore. Some fucked him over on a job? They got in a tussle and whoever came out on top was the winner. After that? Who cares. 

Alexa had been different... Len had lost him for quite a while after that, after the fire. It was Mick's own fault, he let his flame burn to long until the matchstick was gone and it was licking at his fingers, his skin, his arms. He'd lost control of the thing he craved the most and Len couldn't pull him back from it that time. It tore a rift between them and Mick's anger burned like a bonfire for months. It reached for the sky and cried out to the heavens, cackling and cracking so loud that Len could hear it cities away. He could feel it's heat sucking the air out of his lungs, feel it's tears sticking like sweat to his skin. 

Usually Len and Mick settled things the way Mick always settled things. With his fists. Even for the brief moments when he'd spoken to Mick as Kronos, when he'd all but begged forgiveness... The bruises on his skin weren't enough to apologize for what had been done then, what would have been done if Barry didn't fix it.

But Alexa hadn't been fixed until months and months later when Len finally had a job good enough for the both of them. A job he couldn't do without his _partner_. 

The job was Barry.

And damn, that was another thing about Mick's anger.

Barry never saw a lick of it aimed at him, not really. Barry was the ocean to Mick's bonfire, the gentle breath that put out the match before it could even change the colour of the wood. He had this fucking way about him that just calmed Mick faster than Len had ever been able to do. Because Len? Len let Mick do what he needed to do to get rid of the anger- punch a bag for a few hours, find the guy who pissed him off, start a barfight, or if all else failed let him blow something up. But Barry, no, Barry was a hero. Barry had this way of handling Mick that was fascinating and left Len in awe just watching. He was all soft touches and gentle whispered words, dousing fires with soft kisses so fast that no one had seen a thing, the only proof being the press of lips on Mick's and the taste of ozone on Len's tongue.

If Mick was angry at Barry- and that was a big if because it _rarely_  happened- it was almost over before it even begun. As soon as Mick's match was lit, he was off ranting and raving and pacing and _burning_. He was all screaming words and clenching fists and angry expressions. He burned so bright that Len sometimes struggled looking at him for fear of going blind from it. But Barry would just sit there and _listen_. He wouldn't interrupt, wouldn't argue back or yell. He'd sit and wait until he was sure Mick was burning his hottest, and he'd let out the softest of breath's. He'd whisper gentle apologies like the ocean whispers lullabies to it's shores, give promising kisses and take hands gentle into his own.

And just like that, the match was forgotten.

Micks rage was something of a known quantity in the criminal underworld, and even more so in the police force. He'd broken one too many of the pig noses that he was labeled volatile and hotheaded. Because Mick didn't have a middle setting. He was zero you sixty in less than a second. He didn't simmer, didn't heat up, he was a constant ember that gets doused with gasoline until he's flaming higher than the evergreens. Especially when it comes to people he cared about, people he loved. 

The day Lisa came home with a bruised eye from the wrong boyfriend, Mick had hunted him down and beaten the guy within an inch of his life. A few days later, Len had shot him through the heart. The moment Mick heard about the whole ordeal with Lewis and team Flash, he'd thrown a chair across the room and screamed as loud as he possibly could.

It was just his way and damn did Len love him for it.

The first time that scorching fury was struck by their hero, the two rogues were being led through the precinct in cuffs- Micks too tight around his burns and the discomfort evident on his features, though Len was the only one who could distinguish it from the anger. 

And then Barry was rhere, standing at the bottom of his staircase looking at them in confusion because he hadn't known of a heist going on today. He wasn't supposed to but Mardon had gotten too cocky and Len was too preoccupied with Micks new gunshot wound to think of a way out. 

So when one of the cops poked Micks side to get his attention, receiving a snarl from Mick, Len knew the match was being drawn. Any moment now something could set him off.

"Eyes to yourself, Rory," the older cop cooed, smirking up at Barry. "Look kid, your first admirer. Better keep to yourself there Allen. Knowing your family, these two wouldn't mind pulling you into their little crew."

And sure, the shock and pain in Barry's face had lit up Lens own anger, but he knew better than to act on it when not even Joe knew about their relationship with the kid. 

Mick though, Mick had used his teeth to strike the match.

He went snarling and screaming and burning and roaring at the pig. His hands were locked behind him but it didn't stop him- never did- from slamming , forehead as hard as fucking possible into the cop's.  The guy was unconscious in seconds and Mick was being shoved to the ground with his face pressed against the tiles, cops of varying ranks yelling at him, threatening him with a longer sentence or death row.

It wouldn't matter, they'd be home for dinner that night, yet still, Len couldn't help the smirk that split his face. He winked at Barry and shrugged when the kids incredulous expression turned beat red.

"What can I say? Partners got a thing for pretty little brunettes."

That night when Barry came over for dinner, they didn't even make it to desert before he was shoving Mick against walls and being bent over tables. Len was content to watch, the fire licking around Mick, just barely contained within the halo of light that was Barry Allen. It was a violent passion if anything, both of them cursing and spitting at each other- Barry mad that Mick attacked a cop, Mick mad that the guy had said what he did, Barry mad that Mick got himself hurt, Mick mad that Barry was mad.  

But even with the simmering anger and the sharp cursing words, Mick never drew another match that night. His constant burning never once licked across Barry's skin and left a scar. Because Mick might be a match or a bonfire or a fucking volcano, molten and searing and all consuming, but Barry was a star, burning bright in the dark skies guiding Mick back to sanity, back home where be belonged. And Len was the icy breeze wafting down from the mountains that calmed the flames back down to controlled levels. They were an odd trio to be sure, but they worked in a way that Len never thought possible and yet here they were.

 


	3. Glacial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len's anger is chilling and leaves chasms in it's wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not AS happy about this chapter. It was really hard to write and hard to explain exactly what I was trying to say... oh well. Hope you enjoy it anyway! I think the next installment in this series is going to be love. I was going to wait a little for that one, but I can't. I'm too excited to write it.!

Len's anger always served to teach a lesson. Perhaps it was the little bit of Lewis left over in him, but the difference was he didn't always express frustration with violence. Sure, the Santinis pissed him off, needed taught a lesson. So Len just froze a hand or two to get the message across. But if he was angry at someone he cared about, someone he couldn't bring himself to hurt like that. It was different.

With Lisa, he simply ignored her unless absolutely necessary. His sister was a force of nature who demanded attention, a hurricane that got 24 hour news coverage and she basked in it. It was no different with Len. She usually spent her nights with him and Mick, sometimes with Barry. She craved human interaction like a child craved cake, so if she pissed Len off, he deprived her of that. It could span from days to weeks on end until he thought she was sufficiently sorry for whatever idiot thing she did- usually getting herself hurt. He'd even pull the others into it, unknowingly of course. Lisa had dinner plans with Barry? Len planned a heist that night that demanded the Flash's attention. Date with Cisco? Damn, the cold gun is acting up and if Len doesn't get it fixed _right the fuck now_  he doesn't know, it might blow up or something. Lisa's favorite movie is on and she wants to get the group together to watch it? Sorry sis, it's date night and the rogues are in hiding.

Len's anger could be vicious, punishing, if he thought the lesson was important enough. He'd find little ways to let it show where it wasn't so obvious until finally it hit.

He was like a snow storm in the middle of spring. The cold front would come down from the north, chilling air and demanding it's heat. Then the light drizzling of freezing rain or gentle snowflakes, a promise of more to come but still unsure of whether it would get any worse. 

Then the blizzard hit and you realize it was your own fault for not preparing better when you're caught outside without a jacket.

It was rather difficult to tell when Len was truly angry because he didn't express emotions very often, much less powerful ones. He kept a smug or bored mask carefully placed atop any other emotion unless he was particularly vulnerable. It was safe, comfortable. It's what he had always done. Even after the Lewis debacle, the only thing that broke through his mask was the way his eyes filled with relief and his shoulders grew ten times lighter.

So when his anger is described as a glacier, moving slowly across frozen ground, it was _punishing_.

Coming back from the Oculus had been hard for everyone. Mick was broken in more ways than one, Barry was still fragmented from the speedforce and Len was still trying to piece himself back together. But the second he found himself back on the Waverider, he could see the differences.

He could see the way they treated Mick, hear it in the way they spoke to him. He'd turned against them when Thawne and Merlin's little boy band reset the world to be close to Len again, they saw that as betrayal. Len saw it as loyalty. But what really angered him was that they had the gall to be pissed at Mick when they'd done nothing but treat him like shit since he came to the waverider. Len had noticed it before the Oculus, and even more so now. They cut him off when he was trying to explain things he _knew_  about, didn't bother consulting him on matters that weren't criminal, dared to seem surprised when he uttered any sort of 'smart' sounding sentence. Len had even heard Stein tell Mick once, "I didn't know you could read", when he'd caught the rogue with a large book in his hands.

And just like that the mountain was tilting and the glacier was moving.

Heavy and slow, but carving through mountain passes and chilling the land around it, leaving valleys and canyons in it's wake. 

He started with little things, the raw chill of his anger focused mostly on Professor Stein these days. Mick would call him petty, rolling his eyes anytime Len's glacier moved another inch towards the man, because the little things were almost childish- or dickish, Lisa liked to say.

Stein would be working on some scientific project bound to win ten no-bell prizes according to him and Len would be wandering by at a snails pace, cold wafting off his skin like a cube of ice. "Pass me that tool right there would you, mister Snart?" The old man would ask, flashing one of those 'be a good little boy' smiles that made another layer of ice cover Len's skin. So Len would pick up the tool, flick it through his fingers and toss it in the air, wait until Stein was rightfully annoyed at being told to wait before shoving it in his pocket. "Sorry professor, think I hear the missus calling," he'd reply before disappearing through the halls, valley of carved stone behind him and the crumbling of rocks sounding an awful lot like old man sputters.

Or Stein would ask him a question that Len would pointedly ignore until Mick rolled his eyes and repeated the professor's words. Only then would Len answer,.

"And you, Mr. Snart? What do you think of this plan as you'll be the one running it?"

After a long moment of silence, Mick sighs from where he was reading his book. "Boss, the plan?"

"What was that Mick?" Len would say innocently, blinking blue eyes in his partner's direction. "You want to know my opinion on the plan? I think it's a crock of horse shit, but what do I know."

The others would laugh it off, but they weren't any colder when it came to Len's anger. The only one out of the damned crew who would treat Mick like an actual human being was the man of steel, Nate. He actually enjoyed Mick's company in his fancy new library, recommended new books to the pyro when he ran out of things to read. But the others still treated him like shit.

Jax was the surprise though. He was usually so supportive of Mick- well, he was before all the shit with Doomworld went down- so to hear him slight Mick right in front of him sent an avalanche of anger rolling through the thief.

It'd started because something in the engines wasn't working right. The heat had been broken all day and the Waverider had to make an emergency landing because without heat, they couldn't stay in space or time for very long without freezing to death. Mick had tried offering his services, two sets of eyes and all that jazz, but Jax had waved him off, promising the heat to be on soon enough. That was nearly ten hours ago and the kid still had no idea what was wrong with the damned thing.

"We could call Cisco? Or Wally? Aren't they both engineers?" Sarah questioned when they'd all gathered for dinner.

Nate hummed. "Yeah but, Jax is the mechanic. I feel like it's a mechanical problem right? If the engine isn't running the heat?"

Len was sitting next to Mick, his feet propped up on the man's lap and a heavy book leaning against his legs as Mick flipped through it. Len tapped the cover with his foot to get Mick's attention, raising an eyebrow at the book. Mick grunted, shifting the book so Len could see the title and the thief almost snorted in amusement. It was the manual to the Waverider's engine.

"Problem ain't mechanics," Mick grumbled from his seat, drawing everyone's attention towards him as he flipped a page. "It's chemical. Gotta get the fusion pulse back up an' running."

Jax and the others blinked at him before the mechanic frowned. "That's... not a bad idea actually. Too bad we don't know any chemical engineers. Ray maybe you could-"

"I'll look at it," Mick interrupted, pushing Len's feet off his lap before standing.

Jax snorted before seeing the serious look on Mick's face. "Oh... You're serious? Can- I mean... d'you even know how a pulsed fusion engine works?"

Mick hadn't answered, and Len only glared before following his partner out into the engine room. The next day, the heating was fixed in the entire ship other than Jax's room. And if Len accidentally put a dead lock on the kid's door... well he's got no proof.


End file.
